


at the end of the day (all i know)

by atheoryon



Series: Winterhawk Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tales of Suspense, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20530883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheoryon/pseuds/atheoryon
Summary: some days, things are bad. some days, they are good.today is one of those days.in which there are sunsets, feelings, jazz, and kisses.





	at the end of the day (all i know)

**Author's Note:**

> my fill for the winterhawk bingo square: soft bucky
> 
> title once again a one direction lyric because goddamnit i'm sticking with it, from end of the day
> 
> it's (like this) because i am (like that)

It was a warm, late Summer night, the sun slowly beginning to set in the west, casting a pink-purple glow over Brooklyn. Late Summer meant that the city that never slept was nowhere near sleeping, the lights and noises from various nightclubs could be heard in the background, providing the kind of white noise Bucky was so used to at this point he doubted he could easily sleep without it. 

It would be a while before he went to sleep anyway, for now content to sit on the fire escape outside of Clint’s, no,  _ their _ apartment, letting his legs dangle through the bars to swing them back and forth, enjoying the sunset with a bottle of rosé Clint had brought back from France and Lucky sat next to him, a warm and steady presence by Bucky’s side. He mindlessly carded his fingers through Lucky’s soft fur, happy to just  _ be _ for now. 

Clint had texted he’d be back from the mission in less than an hour, Bucky had had a good day helping out at the farmer’s market, things were  _ good _ . When he’d sat down for a few around lunch with fresh juice made from a fruit Bucky had never really heard of before, a kid had excitedly come up to him to show off her prosthetic, and then she’d given him a flower sticker that matched the countless stickers she had on her arm, proclaiming them best friends from now on.

If Bucky cried in the bathroom of the café across the square after that, no-one had to know. 

Well, aside from Alpine, but Bucky was fairly certain cats didn’t count.

In the apartment below theirs, a faint jazzy song started up, one of those slow sappy numbers Bucky not-so-secretly loved. He could easily imagine the scene: Aimee and her girlfriend softly swaying along, caught up in their own little world, young and in love. It was all kinds of sickening sweetness, and Bucky loved it. After 70 years of horror and not feeling anything other than dread and anger the few times he’d been aware of what he did, Bucky absolutely relished in all displays of love and happiness, even, or rather, especially the little glimpses he got. 

Right on cue, Lucky cocked his head and got up, walking back into the apartment where Bucky heard the door open a few seconds later. He heard keys dropping into the little basket Bucky had bought a few weeks ago, then Clint cursing as he probably tripped over something and then Bucky felt a comforting warmth behind him, Clint’s arms around him and his legs bracketing his on either side. “How’s your day been, sweetheart?” 

Bucky sank into the familiar feeling of Clint behind him, as he quickly got through his day, being sure to show off the sticker on his arm with extra care, fondness lacing his voice as Clint traced one finger over the flower. Warmth seeped all the way through to Bucky’s bones, like the sunset was glowing from inside of him as Clint pressed slow, deep kisses into the back of his neck.

With some reluctance Bucky pulled his legs up and turned around, all of his movements slow like lava. As soon as he saw Clint, a smile bloomed on both their faces. Bucky could feel his heartbeat pick up a few rates, tattooing against his ribcage to get closer to Clint, closer and closer until they were one, all the way back to the beginning, stardust finding stardust, back to before Plato’s origin of love. Bucky happily obliged his heart’s wish, scooting closer, wrapped around Clint like a koala, his face tucked into the crook of Clint’s neck, finding his home in the smell of Clint’s body wash and the strong bulk of his body around him. 

Bucky smiled into Clint’s skin as he felt Clint kiss the top of his head. He looked up, catching Clint’s lips in a kiss that was more pressing lips against each other than kissing, their smiles too wide, teeth hitting teeth but neither of them cared, they were here and they were together and what else could matter?

Clint’s arms tightened around Bucky pressing him in closer and closer until he could cross his legs and Bucky was sat in his lap, eyes twinkling and giddy like a kid on the first morning of Hanukkah kissing Clint all over his face, his brows, forehead, cheeks and then his mouth, mouth, mouth until Bucky felt like he was drowning, love singing in his arteries, veins, capillaries, making his head feel light with possibility. 

Clint slowly pulled away from Bucky, making him whine and chase after him. Clint chuckled, somewhere low in the back of his throat, a totally unfair sound Bucky couldn’t get enough of. “C’mon, sweetheart, get up.” Bucky would deny it in the Supreme Court if he was ever asked about it, but he pouted. “There’s music, I’ve got my guy, can’t a man get a dance after a long day’s work?” 

Bucky grumbled a ‘was goin’ to give you somethin’ else after a long day’s work’ under his breath, but there was a blush rising on his cheeks that betrayed exactly how he felt. He got up with a put-upon reluctance that, if Clint’s grin was anything to go by, he saw right through. Not that that was a bad thing, because he wanted all these things with Clint, and Clint wanted them to, and he got to have them, because he got to have things. 

“Lot better than our first rooftop date, huh?”

“I hate you, Hawkeye.”

“‘S okay, I kinda hate you, too.”

Bucky cracked first, pecking Clint on the lips, before holding out his hand to pull him up as well.

So there they were, stealing the music from the apartment below, on a fire escape that definitely didn’t have the space to dance, the sun painting a purple backdrop. Bucky tucked himself into Clint’s neck, smiling as they swayed to the slow beat together.

He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> love me?


End file.
